


One Percenters

by faunix



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Biker Gang, Bikers, Gang Rape, M/M, One Night Stands, one percenter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-19 16:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12413775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faunix/pseuds/faunix
Summary: One night after witnessing what his biker brothers are capable of and what HE is capable of, Rick’s only goal is to get plastered—until he meets a young, studious bookworm.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In a dimension where Rick never became a scientist and Morty is not his grandson.

Wobbling, he stood to his feet in the dampened hay. Feverish sweat pooled in the dip of his collarbone and each breath he took was hollow.

He made a decision to not look down at what laid a few inches away from his boots.

Rick’s plan from here was simple: wash these last few ravaging hours from his body—and get plastered.

Shaky fingers reached for an almost empty pack of cigarettes that Rick stowed in his vest’s inner pocket. The hasty click of a lighter.

Lit up now, he turned and trudged away, a soft glow illuminating his path the fuck out of there. Rick noticed the beady eyes of a few cows behind a gate in their stall. What fucking show the animals had bore witness too.

“Sorry.” He murmured.

The cows stayed silent, following Rick’s exit with their big, gentle heads.

When he emerged, Robert greeted him with a sort of haste. “Is it done?”

Rick felt tension seep into his weakened body and he loosed a quick drag into the light drizzle around them.

“The fuck do you think? You hear him screaming in there anymore? I don’t. I fucking don’t.”

Robert’s open, bearded mouth closed into a thin line of shame. The man lowered his eyes and nodded briefly before stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning back against the barn wall. He sighed.

“It’s exciting and all, but I…I don’t get it. We’ve never done this sort of stuff before.” Robert lifted his eyes to meet Rick’s and he was met with a void.

“Don’t let any of them hear you talk like that.” Rick sensed something changing in the atmosphere with the others. It made his blood go cold, looking into their eyes. No remorse. Rick peered into the dark. It was difficult to see for the lantern above the door.

“Where are they?” He murmured.

“T-they’re in the house…they told me to stay out here and wait for you.”

Rick paused and turned to Robert, harrowing dread gripping his heart. The house was a few hundred yards away from where they stood now. Every window they could see was lit yellow.

“I was only in there for ten fucking minutes. We weren’t told to do anything else but this!”

“I…I don’t know…I don’t know if they found anyone in there. They left and told me you were gonna choke him and they all went for the house. I think they lost it.”

“Fuck.” Rick dropped his cigarette and followed the rocky drive way leading from the barn to the house.

Robert followed him, boots crunching and splashing small puddles. 

Reaching the house, they moved to the grass, silencing their arrival. Both men crouched at the west side of the house, listening with bated breath for any signs of life. Hearing nothing, they crept forward and saw the front door stood wide open.

On their way to the rival’s house, everyone, including Rick, marveled at this guy’s choice of location. How perfect it was for what they were about to do. No neighbors for miles. Empty, flat fields. 

Their rival, ‘Silver Dollar’ knew they were coming and sat outside on a wicker chair smoking a large cigar, waiting for them.

Seeming resigned to his fate, he let them gag him, beat him and drag him to the barn where he would live his last hour.

The wicker chair now sat empty. Rick led the way past the threshold, tracking hay and mud through the living room. It had been ransacked. Papers were strewn. Chairs and a large sofa were tipped. Cabinet doors were opened and shattered China lay not too far away.

Noises could be heard the further the two went in. Muffles. Laughter.

Rick decided he made a mistake in entering the house and he wanted to run and never come back and relish what enjoyment he could have left, never knowing what those noises meant. Blissful ignorance.

Cursing himself, he stepped over more junk, turning down a hallway and stopping before the first door on the right.

“What’s that noise?” Robert’s voice sounded hard.

“Shut up.”

The sounds presented themselves in full reverb and both men, slack-jawed froze. “Yeah fuck, so fucking tight. What a fucking slut.” 

Robert took action and pushed Rick aside easily throwing the door open.

“You bastards!” He yelled.

There before him, Rick saw his ‘brothers of the endless road’ surrounding their rival’s wife on her own bed.

“Jesus.”

She wore nothing, completely bare and breasts bouncing with the force of being fucked from the back by one of the men. The rest had their cocks out and when Robert surged into the room like a tempest, everyone instinctively backed away covering themselves.

The one fucking her released himself from the woman, pushed her away, and pulled his pants up. The woman cowered toward the far wall, eye bruised, nose bloodied and her entrance red and raw.

“She didn’t do nothing!” Robert was roaring skyward, impassioned—his large fists held taught, ready to use. “We weren’t told to do this!”

“Bird told US, not you.” His cool reply coupled with one of the darkest smiles Rick had ever seen, started shards of ice running through his body.

“Adam, w-what exactly did he say?” Rick glanced at the woman and back to the offender.

“He said…hold on.” Reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone, he smiled sheepishly.

“Gotta be accurate here, ya know?” He cleared his throat. “‘Do to her what they did to Tammy.’ His exact words. You can read it if you want, if you don’t believe me. Now leave us to it and if you want in, you can have the next turn.” Adam leaned across the bed and slapped the woman’s ass, laughing at her muffled cry behind her gag.

“You’re all fucking idiots. Look at her! Do you really think she had anything to do with this? With what happened?”

“It doesn’t matter, Rick.” Adam grabbed her hips and pulled her toward him, pulling his pants down again and throwing himself into her. “It’s what he told us to do, and we’ll all fucking enjoy it.”

Rick was about to pull his knife when like a blur, Robert swung at Adam’s face, connecting with a loud crack that brought everyone’s weapons out. Adam slumped to the carpeted floor, hitting his head on a nightstand, knocked the fuck out.

The big guy didn’t stop there. He went for the nearest body and began swinging an empty fist and in the other, a switchblade.

Everyone surrounded Robert, jerking the hands wielding their own blades toward his stomach, but no one got close enough to harm him.

Rick’s eyes met the woman’s. Tears streaked her cheeks and her nose was wet and weeping with mucus. ‘Run, you stupid bitch.’ As if she read his thoughts, she got up weakly. Rick took a few steps forward, skirting around the flying blades and loud yells from the rest of the men. Rick held out his hand to her. A blade nicked her shoulder and she yelped, falling to the ground. Rick hurried to help her up, but it was too late. One of the brawling men ripped from the skirmish, grabbed her hair and slit her throat.

Rick exclaimed in shock and threw himself back against the far wall, staring at blood hurtling itself from her gaping neck. The one who cut her, Jack yelled to the rest,

“She’s dead! It’s over! Let’s split!” No one heard him. They had finally gotten blows on Robert and as if hyenas in a frenzy, began to stab him mercilessly.

“Augh! N-no!” Robert fell to the ground and strained to get up, but they held him down.

There was nothing Rick could do but exit the house, hop on his bike, rev the engine and leave as fast as he could.

What he saw in their eyes was a look he knew all too well—animal. Plain and simple. They were no longer his brothers. They were beasts. They killed their own over a woman. A stupid bitch, at that. Getting herself killed. Rick swerved a little on the road, his head foggy and unfocused.

He couldn’t go home. They would find him there. He decided to cross state lines and find a hotel and more importantly—hard liquor.


	2. Chapter 2

Bright afternoon sun hit Rick’s closed lids, bringing his consciousness to surface.

There were those precious few seconds that tricked him into peaceful calm—until he began to stretch and his head exploded in painful zings and combusting stars.

“Shit….”

When his body contracted to a fetal curl, he realized the sheets beneath him were damp. Rick’s levels of consciousness began to flip their ‘closed’ signs to ‘open’ one by one.

The smell of sour vomit. Was that what he laid on right now? Gross.

Rick thought the cleaning ladies probably had enough of his shit by this point, having been a few days checked in at this hotel.

Rick assumed they cleaned his room whenever he left the establishment on his booze runs, because whenever he came back it was as though nothing happened: the cum on the far wall near the window when he angrily jerked off, the liquor bottles on the night stand, the vomit, the crushed beer cans scattering on the floor around the wastebasket. The ones he threw while naked from his bed—his one man version of ‘pong…all of it gone whenever he came back.

Those ladies were fucking powerhouses and Rick respected them.

The dream he just woke from was of sex and Rick decided it was time to get his shit together and get laid tonight.

Rick had long since buried the events from a few nights ago into the bottles of whiskey and rum and they didn’t matter so much anymore to him.

The texts he had been receiving from the Bird made Rick want to dominate something with his sheer will power: “I know exactly where you are.” Or, “When should I expect you back?” Or, “You need to deliver the badge you took from Silver Dollar’s vest.” And this was the kicker: “I’m sorry.”

These recent events helped Rick realize why he never wanted to be a part of this lifestyle in the first place.

Too much value placed in camaraderie. A ‘brotherhood’ wasn’t his scene. He would never depend on someone, much less, he would never let anyone think they could depend on him. Or ask him for anything unless it was to pass a fat blunt.

Bird had been trying to convince Rick to join the gang for months.

“You already have a bike. There’s no harm in trying.”

“I don’t have the right kind of bike. I don’t like to sit low and cruise.”

“That doesn’t matter and you don’t have to.”

Rick finally relented, giving the gang the benefit of the doubt when Squanchy told him that his motto for the gang was ‘Never Tardy to Party Hardy.’

Squanchy didn’t lead Rick astray.

Most every night, the rumble of deep engines growled the fore running of their enterprise, and the Flesh Curtains rolled up to their favorite hot spots to get high and the ones who didn’t have riding partners would fuck bodies to add to their individual counts.

Harmless enough Rick thought, and besides partying they cleaned up their acts from time to time and donated to charities anonymously or cleaned litter from their local roads (which was beneficial to them but still good for everyone else).

It all went well until Rick found out they had a few gangs who considered them, the Flesh Curtains, their enemies. Either by drug trade sales or some other stupid shit—like what happened in this case: their rivals, the F.E.D.S taking Tammy.

The beef started when one of the F.E.D.S’ riding partners slept with Squanchy, Bird’s younger brother. It was a drunken nothing fling, everyone knew that, but it was taken too far when Tammy went missing a week later.

Before doing anything else, Rick twisted the cap off his flask and circled the ring so the cap laid comfy on his white knuckles. He tilted his head and let the wash of spicy rum wake him the fuck up and clean the taste of bile from his mouth.

Rick groaned and stood up, scratching his right ass cheek.  
His clean clothes laid next to the television on the dresser across from his bed—delivered to him the night before by the hotel service.

Rick was glad for the discount he received by staying more than one night. Despite all their nice commodities, they didn’t pretend to forget their innumerable two to one star ratings on Yelp.  
  
Rick hopped in the shower after the waves of his hangover slowly passed. He refused to look in the mirror until he was done. Rick cleaned everything—his ears, feet, dick (rubbed one out in the process), and cleaned his asshole out as best he could, just in case.

Rick was feeling more and more confident with each swipe of his wash cloth. It was his first shower since escaping. It elevated his system and he felt more like his twenty-six year old self and less like an old man.

Washing the vomit out of his hair almost made him vomit again. Nothing was worse than feeling crusty shit in your hair turn phlegmy and gross when warm water hit it. Washed his hair three times.

Rick got out of the shower in a haze of steam. Rick brushed his teeth using the crappy complimentary tooth brush in that flimsy plastic.

Finally, he rubbed the mirror quick, finger making wet squeaks on the glass. Rick looked damn good. If he played his cards right, he could have five people tonight. Seven, tops.

Rick’s body wasn’t his best quality. It was his narcissism. If it was possible to clone himself, he would do it and promptly fuck the shit out of him. Rick reminded himself of those faggoty Greek statues and thought he looked as good as those, but better.

After his questionable self evaluation, the good feeling brewing inside Rick transferred to his good nature. Before getting dressed, he cleaned everything he could of the room—all the bottles he set in a row against the wall near the door. The cans he put in the wastebasket and the fluid stains of all kinds he tried to lift up from the bed with hand soap. Rick decided to leave his art on the far wall next to the window.

After dressing himself, he looked at his biker jacket—overused leather, patches frayed. Without regret, ripped the patch emblazoned ‘Flesh Curtains’ from its place over his left shoulder and donned the jacket. Rick was done with the Flesh Curtains. It was a ride he’d never take again.

After grabbing his wallet and chain, he combed his hair back, called for room service and left, tossing the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign into the room.

——

By the time Rick left the hotel it was nearly 4p. In the time between waiting for clubs to start opening and then, Rick decided to check out the sites, refuel on his three gallon gas tank and try to catch some tail before the real fun began that night—to no avail.

None of the conservative girls he met in the town wanted to spend time with him and the men weren’t at all open-minded. So he resorted to sitting in a comfortably sized used book store that smelled like mildew and mothballs.

Rick gravitated toward conspiracy books first. Not the kind about aliens and all that, Rick was already 99.9% sure of their existence so that was already covered.

Rick was reading a article printed into the book he read dated to twenty years in the future, speaking about the New World Order. Excited shivers ran down his back at the idea of such a scary world change, wondering if around that time he would commit suicide or live it out. Rick smirked at the book, thinking of how fucked everyone was gonna be.

Time passed and Rick consumed more and more books, more and more topics. Soon his brain was filled with new knowledge and with every word, grew stimulated in the best way. Rick already knew a lot but he hadn’t realized that he had been starving himself like this until walking into the store. It had been a good few months or more since delving deep into the recesses of his most intimate, climactic places. Rick’s own stimulates mind.

Rick began to have second thoughts about going to a club that night, tasting the sweet nectar of the most mind blowing sex he’s had in a long while, he didn’t want to end it. But he knew this place closed at 8:30 and it was currently 7:14 when he checked his phone.

While his phone was still out, he checked the nearest club and found it was fifteen minutes away. It was pretty popular, apparently, but Rick wasn’t so sure about it, thinking of all the conservative people he had met today that lived in the area.

Next.

Around 45 minutes away was a gay bar and a dance club in the same vicinity in a semi-large city. The reviews for both establishments were off the charts. Bingo. That didn’t take long, finding his place.

Rick read the new texts from the Bird:

‘Don’t make me have to come find you. I wouldn’t like to take you from your freedom.’

“Like fucking hell you wouldn’t.” Rick muttered.

“E-excuse me?” Someone asked.

Rick glanced up from the disturbing message to look upon a boy. Chocolatey brown hair and the widest fucking eyes Rick had ever seen. The boy was sitting a few yards away from himself with a mass of books crowded around his folded legs like Rick had around himself.

“Not talking to you.”

“Oh.” The boy said, pushing up his reading glasses. “S-sorry.” He dropped head to continue reading the book on his lap.

Rick stared at him a few seconds longer, then returned to his phone, mildly wondering how the hell he hadn’t noticed this kid sitting near him for what was more likely the past hour.

Rick’s eyes burned holes into Bird’s message.

‘Fuck you.’ Rick typed. The first reply to the many texts he had been sent by his former gang leader.

Suddenly bored with reading, Rick stood, stretched and began to gather the books he spent time with.

“Oh… a-are you leaving?”

Rick heard the kid speak again and needles of irritation punctured his neck and shoulders.

“What does it look like?”

“Well y-you don’t need to have a crappy attitude. I had only wanted to talk about what we were reading, you know?”

Rick’s ears wondered if they were deceiving him. Could it be? Feigning a disinterested look, Rick glanced at the kid, looking closer for signs to present themselves before him.

Black jeans, boot-cut. A peek of his socks—black and gray argyle. No jewelry, simple yellow t-shirt and black shoes. So far, nothing was blinding evidence to Rick. His excitement deflated a little before he looked back at the boy’s face.

Knitted brows hooding his eyes over a cute little nose. His mouth naturally curled up at the ends. Not too plump, not thin at all. But back to the eyes. There was something seriously interesting behind them. Reeeeal serious. Rick liked it. Liked it a lot. Too much.

“Sure we can talk.”

“Well, now it’s weird.” The kid said. “Y-you just licked your lips looking at me, that’s gross.”

“What, people can’t lick chapped lips anymore? Whu-oh! Watch out! Chapped lips police!”

“Just forget I said anything.”

“Wait—wait…so you’re gonna strike up conversation with a complete stranger and now you’re changing your mind?”

“People are allowed to change their minds.”

“Oh so we’re going with that? Are people allowed to hurt other people’s feelings, too? Cause you really hurt mine just now.” Rick was beginning to have fun.

“Yes, people are allowed to do anything they g-god damned want to.”

“Whoa. Jeez. I’m religious. Don’t bring god into it.”

“You’re a dick.” The boy tried to look back at his book and ignore Rick.

“Well…if I’m the dick…then you must have to be the asshole.”

The boy looked upward slowly. “Excuse me?”

Rick smirked. “You heard me.”

The boy stood. “Y-you know what? I’m leaving. I don’t need this kind of—”

“Oh now you’re leaving?”

“Y-yeah, can’t take rejection?” The boy countered.

“Wanna fuck?” Rick stepped forward, suddenly enraptured... then faltered. “Wait, how old are you?”

The look on the kids face was comical. Horrified. He recoiled as if burned, but again—Rick saw the thing behind his eyes that he liked a lot.

“Wh-what the hell?!”

“Look, it’s no big deal, just a question... WHICH I will revoke if you’re underage.”

The longest pause in recorded history ensued. Lots of blinking, lots of staring, lots of frozen air.

“…”

“…okay so…no, then?”

The boy still stared, so Rick began picking up the rest of his books and shoved them onto the shelf. Rick walked away and looked back before he rounded the corner.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be at the Clairvoyance nightclub tonight. If I see you there, that means you’ve made the right decision to have this huge cock up your ass.”

Rick gently thrusted in the air, smirked at the boy’s horror and turned—meeting the gaze of an old woman. Her mouth was open in mortification. Rick kept enough cool not to rush out of there laughing his ass off.

Once on the road, his Yamaha hummed low to the ground as if gluing itself to the asphalt under the wheels. He laughed behind his helmet, the sound muffled to his ears.

Rick laughed because the thing behind the boy’s eyes was his ticket to getting laid. Knowing he’d see the boy later that night truly excited him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


End file.
